All the small things

Just about a year ago, I visited MIT for the first time ever.

But for some reason it feels much longer than that.

Why? Senior year seemed to go by so fast. By that logic, I should remember visiting MIT like it were yesterday. And yet for some reason I can remember that visit only in vague snatches, a handful of disjointed scenes and conversations that have very little do with one another.

The only answer I can come up with is that so much has happened between that visit and today, from last sumer to this summer.

And even though I sense this entry is rapidly heading off in a direction I didn't at all mean for it to go, I'm going to see if I can actually figure out all that happened in the past year or so.


First semester: I went to summer tennis practice for the last time ever. I started TADA. I wrote and read a prayer for the 9/11 victims. I tutored, I did my homework, I stayed involved in my various clubs and activities. I did a bit of research and a lot of paper-writing. I entered Siemens at almost the last-possible minute - and, to my ongoing amazement, won. And, oh yeah, somewhere in there I tried to apply to college. Thanks for not killing me, Mom.

Second semester: I was through with college apps, thank God, but for some reason none of us could shut up about college itself. I visited California and came back only because I had to. Initially seeded fifth in a field of ten, we upset everybody and won the city Quiz Bowl tournament for the first time in school history. Then we swept the top five spots at the Regional Science Fair, for the first time in fair history. I got into MIT. I visited MIT. I matriculated to MIT. I went to ISEF. I got my summer job. I did my APs. I graduated.


That's...a lot. I know it is, and I treasure every success I achieved - none of which, when I think about it, I accomplished solely on my own. I always had someone else backing me up - my teammates, my research mentor, my teachers, my principal. My parents. I think...I think it's important to acknowledge that.

But that's not really all that happened last year. There's more, much more, to my life than that list up there would tell you. So many things in my life - in any life - are simply too large, too inexpressibly important, to fit into a laundry list of accomplishments. I cannot contain in words how my physics teacher ignited my passion for a subject I had never seriously thought about before. I cannot boil down to a single sentence the many great people I feel privileged to call my friends - nor can I accurately describe all the late-night study sessions, the euchre games, the concerts, the movies, the epic Halo battles, the Colts-Bears Super Bowl rivalry that seemed so important at the time.

Originally, this entry was supposed to be about college applications. Obviously I got a little sidetracked - sorry! But think there's an important point here that actually does have something to do with apps. College applications, simply by the way they're structured, make it very easy to get caught up in yourself - in your own accomplishments, your own ambitions. That also makes it very easy to lose your friends. And while I'm not about to endorse some sappy blanket sentiment like friends are the most important thing in the world, nothing more to be said, end of story - I will say it's hard to be alone.

I got lucky last year. I was able to hang on to my friends in spite of everything else going on in my life. If anything, I think my friendships have grown stronger in these past twelve months. Like a sword that's been tested in a flame, perhaps.

The moral of the story is that, in your life, you will do many things that will never show up on a college application. But that doesn't mean those moments are any less important or valuable than those that do appear on your final app.

In the end, sometimes it's the small things that matter most.

Leaving South Bend, never easy

As I write this, one of my best friends is on a plane, heading to West Point for basic training.

It is, I know, something he has always wanted.

But that doesn't make it any easier for me, for his friends, for his family - for all of us he's leaving behind. It reminds me a little of that line in "Leaving New York," It's easier to leave than to be left behind.

That song's always had a lot of meaning for me, and I'm not even from New York. Now, though, it really hits home.

John is one of those guys who's everybody's friend. Smart, funny, good-looking, kind of happy-go-lucky, football player, honors student...just an all-around great guy. Yes, he had girl problems like all of us; yes, he could be insensitive; yes, sometimes he cut corners or he slacked off. He wasn't perfect, but he was...he was John.

And now he's just a new cadet. He gave us his address, so we can send letters to him while he's at Basic, and we can't even put his first name on them. They're taking his name, and I don't know what else, and I'm scared that the John I see in a few months, if I even do get to see him that soon, isn't going to be the John I knew.

I think we all feel this way, all of my friends. It's becoming increasingly clear that we only have precious little time left together. A few months ago, college was just a letter in the mail, a dream that we desperately wanted to come true. Now it's real, and we realize that the dream is bittersweet.

John's been a great friend to me these past few years, and I'd miss him terribly even if he weren't leaving so soon, even if he weren't going to West Point. But at the same time, John and his departure are also just one example of what we're all going to be going through very soon, as we get ready to leave South Bend for the new school and new city we've chosen for ourselves.

I'm excited, naturally. I know I made the right choice, I know that MIT is the right school for me. The academics and the facilities are everything I've ever dreamed of, the students and the faculty fit my own personality without me having to conform to their standards - and I am going to love living in Boston.

But in a way my excitement is also just a facade covering up all the fear and anxiety I have about actually leaving home, actually drinking from the firehose that is MIT. I joke about being buried by p-sets, but what if I really can't handle all the work? My parents keep telling me not to do too much and spread myself too thin (and I, in return, keep insisting that I know how to manage my time), but what if I really do end up taking on more than I can handle?

And I am afraid, just a little bit, of my fellow classmates - which is kind of ironic, because everybody I've met, at CPW or on Facebook or elsewhere, has been completely friendly and I'm really looking forward to meeting all of them in August. But they've all done such amazing things and all seem to know exactly what they'll be doing at MIT, and sometimes I feel very small compared to them. I worry about fitting in, about not being overlooked socially or academically, about whether or not my roommate will get along, about succeeding in my classes, about extra-curriculars, about getting a UROP. I even worry about whether or not I'll actually have enough time to watch the Notre Dame games every Saturday, like I've been planning to.

But...in spite of all that...I'm doing just fine. I've made my choice, and even if I am scared I'm not going to let that stop me from having the time of my life. It's going to be hard, but it's supposed to be. And that's the way I like it.

My future's mercurial, the past...I'm not going to forget it. But I won't let it hold me back.

So maybe I've made you smile, maybe I made you frown. But I'm not changing my mind, and I'm not turning around.

I'm going to MIT.

This one's for you, John.